The Bones of Broken Songs: A Historical Mystery Romance (Mortalsong Trilogy Book 2)

by J. M. Stredwick

  “But we could continue…like this,” I tell her. “There has to be another way for you to achieve this.”

  “There is no other way!” she shrieks, her glow intensifying. “If she had not put her blood into me, to ruin our joining, this would have never occurred. We would not have this problem in the first place. What should have been finished centuries ago must be finished now!”

  I jerk my head to Idalgo, and he comes to me. His ear is turned toward me.

  “We will try to hold them off. You need to slip out and get her far from here,” I whisper.

  “What are you saying?” Sidra rages. “Benjamin stop.”

  “Will you do it?” I ask him.

  He nods, affirming it. Completely loyal.

  “Rise up men! We kill them like dogs!” I call. My men slip into aggressive stances, flipping about their sabres and knives. I doubt that all of Vauquelin’s men are covered under Sidra’s blessing. When I say this, her face grows ashen. She’s a snake shriveling against flames. Her mouth drops a crack. Vauquelin scrambles, rallying his men and tells them to attack us. What else can he do?

  I raise my fist in the air, signaling them to spring forth. Then they clash. A flurry of weapons, a clashing of metal and the stench of blood. The sickening noises of death and creation of gashes; of wounding. I meet Sidra’s eyes and she seems to be lost in her sadness, swimming in grief. I whisk up my sabre and jump into the brawl, meeting the chest of a lunging man with my blade. It scrapes the flesh away from his chest, and he buckles in pain. Yes. They can die.

  Vauquelin onlooks, fury smoking from him. I knee a man in the chest and watch as Idalgo threads through the struggling masses of men. He needs to get past them all without being noticed. Will no one spot him? Then, I think: red.

  Searching around, looking through all the sea of battling men, I do not see her. Where did she go? Fuck.

  Ramming my blade into a man’s neck, I pull to the side. Sidra has gone to Vauquelin, slipping through the skirmishes as if they were nothing. Like a woman walking through a dance hall. I work my way over to them, but they are going to leave. There is so much commotion, so much going on. I sprint after Idalgo and tell him to go quickly before they can. We fly up the steps of the cave, out into the blackness of the night. The sounds echo from the enclosed space, and we run. We dodge the trees and thicket, racing for the manse. No words are said between us. He follows, close at my heels. I hear Sidra screaming, her scream like a violent contention against the atmosphere. It rings in my head.

  They are coming for us. We have to be faster than them.

  Alphonse

  I watch them from the shadows. Claire’s intelligence, her desire for vengeance thrills me. My mind is still fogged from the Succubus’s magic, but it has wavered and receded enough for me to remember what my task was. How could I combat with that? Claire and Mary Croy lower dynamite down into the earth. Kriath drags the cart that they’ve piled it within, carefully, as well as the gunpowder, rope, and matches. They’ve explained it just enough to Gia, as they were working so that she did not go into a fit. She was close, telling them that she would leave if they didn’t explain what was happening.

  Claire is gentle with the dynamite as she lowers herself down into the hole. Kriath goes down after her, and Red stands at the top, lowering down the necessary items. They’ve been doing this for hours, going back and forth. I am sure that Claire is making a line of dynamite all the way through the tunnels on both sides, all the way from the hovel of peaceful creatures in their sacks, to the entrances on both sides. This is their last one, and it does not take them long to assemble it. Red pulls them both back up and out of the cave, her strength astounding. Gia looks on, and I sense that she is perturbed.

  They have connected a second rope to the dynamite, and Claire holds it gingerly as she is drawn back up. They speak gently, still, their voices echo, and the torch that provides them light can be seen through the trees, lighting the hillside.

  “We light the rope and run. It will trigger the chain,” Claire says, laying it on the ground, careful to be sure that it is still secure.

  I am shocked at her idea. It gives me such happiness that she has thought of this, that she is reaching out to take what she wants. My jaw still hurts from her slap, but I cannot mind it. I can only be there for her. I have to choose. With them, against them.

  “The ship is prepared,” the redheaded woman tells them. “We run for it.”

  Claire lights the match, the fire dancing in her eyes. She looks like a pyromaniacal goddess.

  “We count it down,” she says. “We will run, but we will have time.”

  “Benjamin will be okay?” Gia asks her. “You said that he would be.”

  Their eyes skim across her. They can make no promises to her. Just then, as they are preparing to count down, they hear a shuffling in the night. A loud gut-wrenching scream. Any noise in the jungle travels far, especially during the night. It is like a cracking across the moonlit horizon.

  “No no no,” Claire utters briskly. “Let’s go. We have to go now.”

  Their torchlight will draw attention. I can hear the thunder of legs getting louder, and press myself against the trees, fully concealed in the darkness. Claire’s hands shake as she leans down to light the rope. The noise of boots trampling becomes louder, and she tries again.

  “Hurry!” Red hisses.

  “I’m trying!” Claire snaps.

  “The bloody rope is wet,” Kriath says. “Just throw the match down!”

  “If I do that it’ll go straight into the water or explode with us right on top of it. I need it to be the rope!” Claire is urgent. “Gia, go! Red take her!”

  “No,” Gia is firm. “I am not leaving without you.”

  Suddenly two black figures fly like streaks through the trees.

  “Go!” It is Benjamin. Fucking Benjamin and one of his men.

  Gia’s eyes light when she sees him, and Claire utters curses. The Succubus sighs out and they realize that there is no other option. His severity is apparent. They can hear those who follow them, like an earthquake rumbling before its full height has amassed.

  “We have to leave! They’re coming!” he urges them. He grabs Gia by the arm and tugs her along. Kriath grabs Claire from behind, telling her to leave the fire, to leave it all and to forget it. Their lives mean more than her vengeance.

  She battles against him for a moment before relinquishing her control and racing after them. The Succubus remarks something about a ship in the barge; it is already prepared. I watch this all from my covering and remain still until they are out of sight. The sound of running, of rampant men and what I guess to be an angered demon-woman, draw nearer to us. So, I do what must be done. For her. I have not been the most devoted of lovers, not the most devoted for our cause. I have tried to live two lives because I do not know what I want. But, do I have to know what I want for my future right now? I don’t know all of the details. All I know is that I have the chance to do what she wanted. To right the wrongs, I have done to her.

  I slip out of the shadows, and saunter up the hillside, going to their cart where their matches lay. I slide the rough tip against the wood box and it lights. Kneeling over the rope that is threaded into the hole and connected to the dynamite and gunpowder, I work slowly to make it light. This is the same hole that Claire and I had climbed out of only a few days before. I can see the forms of her dynamite chain, and I reach forward, hoping that further down the line the rope will be dry. I try in one space, and it does not catch. I try in another, and sparks fray the rope. The flame pops up, and it begins to fizzle, burning along the line.

  Jumping back, I realize that I’ve done it. The rope is ablaze. I should leave. If I have faith in who she is, I have faith in the sureness of her handiwork. The explosion will destroy the nest of creatures they have growing there. Will it help? Or does it simply give Claire a sense of retaliation? Are these creatures immune to fire? I doubt it. If they are not living yet, there must be
something lacking. But being created from Sidra, they must possess some sort of supernatural otherness.

  Loping off into the jungle, I decide the best course of action will be for me to go. I have done all I could do. Maybe none of this is what I was meant to do. I have not experienced freedom of choices in eighteen years. Whether it her fault is not debatable. I know that it was mine. But oftentimes when we carry someone that affects us so deeply, we feel suppressed and cannot do what we’d otherwise choose if that person were not around. I love her, I know this. Her entire existence is like artwork for me; it tantalizes my senses and is precious in all ways. But if I don’t even know who I am…what I am, why I am choosing it, then I cannot continue to hurt her any longer; I must do what I need to do for myself. As she said, I strung her along. My absence will clear us of our follies that when joined became virulent, wrapping us tighter and tighter together. This is not simply from words spoken. It was from our mannerisms, our minds; we clash so beautifully. It is madness for me to be in this position now, when the two halves of my heart lead me in opposite directions.

  I can recall a small sloop at the western edge of the island. It is more out of direct sight, something fishing or traveling small distances. If I can find this, I will go. If not, I will stay. I’ll let the fire decide my fate.

  Gia

  We boarded the ship. All of us. Myself, Benjamin, Claire, Mary Croy, Idalgo, and Kriath. We’re an odd company. Claire shouts out commands to the sailors that Mary Cory has assembled, some of Benjamin’s men under one of her “influences” no doubt. I question this because when Claire declares her commands, the all simply stare, frozen in their minds. Mary’s stone smirk is unmistakable, and she tells them to do exactly as Claire has said.

  “What is this?” Benjamin asked her, deeply confused.

  “Benjamin, my darling. I hope your feelings aren’t hurt. The only reason I was ever with you was for her,” she shoots a dark look my way.

  His brows raise, and he looks to me.

  “There will be time later for this conversation,” she uttered to him.

  He nodded and got to work among the men, helping to release the sails and draw up the anchor. Everyone was in a fury of movement, and I could only stand. I didn’t know what to do, so I watched. Claire came to me. She was in a state of panic, eyes darting along the scape of the island as she held me. I thought that I could hear her mind. Please. Don’t find us. Give us time. As she is my sister, or, was, I think that she must care for me the most. I wonder, who was I to Mary? She called me “ancient one,” and told me that I was once the same as she. What does this mean for me? I need answers, but time is the cloud on which my answers wait. I cannot pull them down. I cannot rise up to meet them. I must simply float, awaiting the time when they will rain down on me.

  The ship began to move, to glide out into the dark murky ocean water. The waves crash around us, and the wind whips us. Though the air is still warm, I am cold. My skin itches with chills. These people who hunt us, how long will it take for them to find us? They will not be so far behind.

  Claire is enraged that her plan did not work. Suddenly then, we see them. It is many men, and I can make out the haunting image of the demon woman, the Bone Woman, as they called her amongst them on the shoreline. We are further away but they can reach us with ease if they get in a ship and head straight for us and are lucky with the wind. It will be soon enough that they meet us in the open water. We cannot escape them forever.

  Light. It happens nearly in slow motion, the expressive spearing of it, violent and shattering the night sky. The first boom echoes across the water, smoke and fire roaring over the treetops, clearing an entire section of land. No one expected it. Everyone flinches, hunkering down and covering their faces. The men fall along the docks, jumping into the water. The woman swings herself around, and I watch her staring at the blast, the endless detonations that manifest one after the other, beneath the earth, imploding so powerfully that the light and flames reach out of the earth, scoring the skies with stark illumination. When the dust has settled, the drumming of explosions finished on both ends, no one speaks. Everyone is wrought with spine-tingling shock.

  Claire is gripping my arms so tight that I know it will leave bruises.

  “Good god,” she utters. Her voice is flat and baseless.

  “You said you did not light it?” Kriath snaps at Claire.

  “I didn’t,” her tone is inaudible.

  Mary looks at me, spiritual unrest crazed in her face. The cries of the Bone Woman can be heard from where we are standing. Claire had told me there were creatures, a brood of them, beneath the earth. They were hers. She is mourning her children.

  “Then how?” Mary claps back at Claire.

  Claire glances back at them all, lets out a defeated breath.

  “My only guess…Alphonse.”

  Out on the open ocean, miles from the island, I feel a weight off of my chest. Something about being at sea is easier. Maybe that is because I was trapped there. Now, I am no longer trapped. Mary and Claire will not allow it. Trapped in the manse, but also trapped in my confusion. And now, I am able to partake fully of the questions that rot out my mind.

  “So?” I step forward, into the circle of men and women who speak quietly on deck. “I’m waiting for my answers.”

  I have stayed silent long enough.

  Benjamin comes to me and searches my eyes. His hair is battered at his shoulders, his face grim. I think that he wants to consume me, the way that his eyes connect with mine. To drink me in and curl me up in his heart. I feel the steady beat of my own heart, lurching with adrenaline and thrill for him. I don’t know why, it just occurs; without merit, without reason. It is there, existing as some prestigious feral creature in my subconscious, so dangerously prepared to rise up and devour me. Devour us both.

  “What is this? What am I?” I ask them all, determined.

  Mary comes forward and raises her fingers to my cheek.

  “She needs the truth. Not some suppressed version of it,” she states, loud enough for them all to hear. She leans closer to me. Her breath hits my face, and I swear that it is perfumed somehow. She is beautiful, and I lower my eyes. She places a hand under my chin.

  “Look at me. You were once what I am,” she murmurs. “Benjamin, we both knew him from long before. Only his name was Veteris then. Perhaps I will tell you that story when it comes time. Still, you were my leader. My partner.”

  “My sister,” Claire chimes in. “We were sisters in France. It is a shame you do not remember our lovely Maman.”

  I let out the breath that I have been holding.

  “Am I supposed to remember these things?”

  “No,” Claire shakes her head. “There is a way, a ritual done, to bring back the memories of our past lives. Still, I have never succeeded in it. I only know that it is possible. If we are able to make it back to Switzerland and explore the lands from which this entire situation was cultivated, we might be able to help you remember, and find a way to end the bitch who never dies.” Claire glances at Mary. “No offense.”

  “At least we agree upon her end,” Mary laughs, nudging Claire softly.

  “I was once one like you?” I repeat to Mary. “What does that mean?”

  “Your soul…you. You were one of the more ancient of our kind. In Rome we had lived, never amongst one another. Still, when there was a recognition of the so-called “succubus problem,” we were forced to leave, or else those who hunted us would dwindle our numbers even further. You see, even at that time magic was nearly absent. Our existence was not known well. We had to conceal ourselves well to maintain our survival. Our kind descended directly from Vermora…”

  “Vermora?” Benjamin interjects.

  “Yes,” she realizes that not one of us knows of what she speaks. These are alien words to us all. Though, Kriath glances back when she says this.

  “I forget…” she offers a painful smile. “This is a lesson to you all. Listen to me then. There
is a truth here that must be spoken. The universe has willed humanity to exist. There are entities…those manifestations of energy, which humans may call gods or deities. There are two who abolished the magic for purposes known only to them. Vermora is the dark, Astra is the light. The Succubus were a race created in the primordial days by Vermora. Same with the…Ganayun,” she smirks, eyes sparkling towards the man with wings. “Benjamin…he was of Astra.”

  His eyes widen. “What does that mean? You said you knew me then. Sidra proclaimed that it was me alone that they intended to create her with. That Gia, her Succubus blood was a mistake and ruined what they’d initially planned.”

  “Do you want to know now?” she dangles the information before him.

  “How could I not want to know?” he is near hostile. “I didn’t know you were this…creature that you are. Tell me what you have to say.”

  “So be it. You were once a Sylph. A protector of humans. Sylphs were beings who cared for and watched over humans. In some instances offering them healing and blessings.” There are tears forming on her lashes. I don’t know why, but I do not reach out to comfort her. What is she remembering? Why does she react in this way? I cannot imagine of what she speaks, only listen, drunk on the truth of it all.

  Benjamin begins to laugh, a chuckle at first that evolves into something meaner. He raises his arms and shrugs.

  “You are joking. This is funny though, I’ll grant you that.”

  “It is no joke,” she hisses at him. “You think I would tell you something untrue at a time like this?”

  He seems unimpressed, unwavering in his disbelief.

  “No matter. All of us were once formed out of either vein of life. When the Druids discovered the secret, that we were all once immortal, dangerous and beautiful creatures, they wanted to get that back. But the Duo of Astra and Vermora did not want this. They allowed the immortals to slowly trickle out of existence, taking their lives in one way or another. When one died, their soul was refitted into that of a human’s. This slow removal of magic, filtering out the ones who bear it…then there were whispers of the reconstruction. It resulted in this situation.”